This Jealousy
by motley-atypical
Summary: Blaine had this little problem. This problem was starting to become the very bane of Kurt's existence. It was Blaine's sudden affection towards a certain Rachel Berry every time they were drunk together. Well. Two can play this game.


**I didn't expect this to be so long. I just started writing on a whim and it just kind of...embellished. This is essentially smut that's pretending to have a plot. I write those sometimes. Just as a warning, although this is very much Klaine, it comes with a side of Puckurt, and a small splashing of Raine. It was important for the plot progression.**

**There are absolutely no spoilers present here, strictly AU (although I suppose it would technically be set this season). **

**As always, I don't own anything apart from the plot idea. Characters belong to Fox, etc, etc...and the title belongs to our very own Darren Criss.**

* * *

><p>Sometimes Kurt Hummel wanted to quite literally strangle Blaine Anderson.<p>

He loved his boyfriend dearly, of course he did. He had loved the other boy since the first second they laid eyes on each other (though he wasn't nearly cheesy enough to declare the meeting as "love at first sight"...not around other people, anyway) but Blaine had this little problem. This problem was starting to become the very bane of Kurt's existence.

It was Blaine's sudden affection towards a certain Rachel Berry every time they were drunk together.

Kurt was pretty sure that he wasn't imagining this. It would start off just talking as friends do, then the dancing would become more and more obscene, Blaine would become a little bit more gropey, and this would culminate in a very often steamy karaoke duet. Not to mention the kisses. And by "kiss" it wasn't just an innocent peck on the cheek or lips between friends. No. It was a full blown, "how the hell do they not need air?", tongue down the other's throat kind of kiss.

Okay, Kurt should probably clarify that these kisses had only ever occurred during games of spin the bottle. No matter whose party the young couple went to it would be inevitable that at some point during the course of the evening the game would be played, and even more inevitably the bottle would end up landing on Blaine after Rachel had spun it. If he didn't know any better he would think that she somehow fixed it.

That was ridiculous, right?

He couldn't help the jealousy. Yes, Blaine was gay and only had eyes for Kurt...when he was sober. Drunk Blaine was a lot more loving than that, and he could see it in Blaine's bleary eyes every time he and Rachel broke apart that he had loved every second of it. Blaine would always then spend the rest of the night acting even more affectionately around her than he did with his _boyfriend_.

What would happen if one evening Kurt wasn't at the party and something ended up happening between the two?

There was no point in calling Blaine out for it. He either claimed not to remember enough of the evening to remember, or he would shrug it off. First with the behaviour;

"_I'm just an affectionate drunk, Kurt, it doesn't mean anything."_

Then the mouth-fucking;

"_It's just a game. I didn't get jealous when you kissed Santana." _

Yes. Just a kiss. Not a full-blown make-out session. Besides, it wasn't like Kurt had enjoyed kissing Santana. He hadn't had a straight crisis with Santana once nor did they hang around each other like cats on heat afterwards. Kurt competed with Rachel for everything. He didn't like feeling as if Blaine was included in that.

The final straw came when they had been at a party at Rachel's again. Kurt had asked Blaine before not to get too drunk. Not only did he want to have to deal with his boyfriend's hangover the next day, he also didn't want to have to spend the night watching him dry-humping Rachel. Using those words exactly had proven to be a mistake and they had ended up having a heated argument. They had barely said more than three words to each other since they had arrived at the party. Kurt spent his time drinking with Mercedes and Tina, while Blaine chatted with Puck, Finn and Mike about the upcoming championship match the Titans would be playing.

Kurt – as it turned out – was one of the happy-girl drunks (yes, he referred to himself in the female drunken stereotype). He was cheerful and funny and nothing bothered him nearly as much (which is why, he would think in sober hindsight, he never called Blaine out when they were both drunk). In fact, by the time it got to around 1am that night, he was starting to think that he should perhaps apologise to Blaine for overreacting.

That was, until...

"Blaine!" Rachel declared as the bottle she had spun came to a slow halt, somewhere in the region between where Blaine and Brittany were sitting.

"Actually, it looks more like it's pointing to Brittany," Mercedes began but Rachel and Blaine had already met in the centre of the circle. Puck – who had sat up a little straighter at the promise of two girls kissing – slumped back down.

"Surprise, surprise," he grumbled, saying just what Kurt was thinking.

Kurt's fist clenched as he watched the two of them make out for the millionth time. This particular session was more heated than usual, Blaine's right hand was tangled in Rachel's hair, and the left was dancing up and down her sides. She let out a soft moan as he sucked gently on her lower lip. Blaine's eyes opened momentarily, meeting Kurt's. The corner of his mouth curved up in a subtle smirk. Kurt's blood started to boil. Blaine was doing this _deliberately _to try and piss him off. Kurt could see a light red-tinge on Finn's face as he tried to laugh off this pornographic clinch. Poor Finn didn't want to suspect anything because Blaine was (supposed to be) gay.

When they finally broke apart, Blaine punched the air and laughed triumphantly.

"It's gonna take a hell of a lot to beat that!" he declared, to Rachel's delight and Kurt's overwhelming annoyance.

"Spin the bottle, Blaine!" Tina smiled

It was almost ironic when the bottle came to rest on Kurt. There was a silence. Everyone stared between the boys sitting at opposite poles of the circle. Though no-one had asked what the matter had been, they had all been aware of the tension. Kurt sighed laboriously and uncrossed his legs.

"Come on, baby," Blaine said and puckered his lips dramatically. Kurt's hand twitched seemingly of it's own accord but he managed to stop himself smacking the smug face of the boy across from him. He HATED being called baby. Instead he just raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow,

"Let's just get this over with," he said coolly.

Someone took a sharp intake of breath. Blaine's own eyebrows furrowed.

The kiss was short and abrupt. Kurt pulled away before Blaine did, leaning back to rest on his knees.

"That wasn't as hot as I thought it was gonna be," Brittany said quietly. Blaine moved back into his spot between Brittany and Mike. He looked rather sullen. Kurt guessed that Blaine had assumed that the kiss would be more passionate and heated, that Kurt would compete for the "best kisser" title over Rachel. Instead he had got the cold shoulder.

_Good, you deserve it _Kurt thought savagely. The only person oblivious to the tension was – rather surprisingly – Rachel herself. Then again, she was oblivious to just about everything after a few wine coolers. She clapped her hands together cheerfully,

"Okay, Kurt, your turn!"

"If it lands on me, I'm sitting this one out," Finn said, raising his hand, "I'm not kissing my brother, that's illegal"

"It's not incest if he's your step-brother, idiot," Santana replied.

Finn had nothing to worry about as the bottle came to a halt on Puck. There was general mutterings of interest.

"Well here's one we've never had before," Mike said.

"Puckurt," Tina giggled.

"Make it a good one," Santana piped up, "I want to remember this."

Kurt wasn't expecting much. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if Puck wanted nothing more from him than just a brief peck on the lips. He moved back into the centre of the circle, where Puck was already waiting. The taller man was wearing a smile that they had all come to associate with forming a devious plan in his head. Kurt didn't expect Puck to grab the back of his neck and rather than kiss him, put his lips close to his ear.

"Hey Puckerman, it's just a kiss, not foreplay!" Blaine said. His voice was light enough, but Kurt could hear the note of warning below. The taller man ignored this.

"Hey," Puck whispered, his not-altogether unpleasant voice tickling Kurt's ear "You mad at Frodo?"

Usually Kurt would reprimand him for the nickname but this time he just nodded.

"If you want, I can help you get back at him."

Kurt knew that the general rule with McKinely was that if you're mad with your boyfriend, you used Puck to get back at him. He had no idea that this same rule applied to him as well. Not that he was complaining. Although he didn't often let himself admit it, he had sometimes found himself staring at the jock's well-muscled frame and had always thought, ridiculous mohawk aside – he wasn't entirely unfortunate in the face but...it was still _Puck_. If Kurt was sober he might have found himself refusing.

But he wasn't sober.

"Okay." _Two can play this game, Blaine. _

The first thing Kurt noticed was that Puck's kisses were much different from Blaine's. His lips were rougher, for a start (Kurt made a brief mental note to offer the other boy chap stick when they stopped kissing), and there was more stubble, but he definitely wasn't bad at this. Well, Kurt supposed, you'd have to be a good kisser to uphold your reputation as the biggest man-whore in the school. He reciprocated enthusiastically, quietly determined to make Blaine as jealous as he could. After all, that was clearly what the purpose of this was. He didn't object when he felt a probing tongue swipe alone his bottom lip, he granted it access to his mouth, meeting it halfway with his own. Definitely not bad. He heard another wolf-whistle.

"This is really hot," Brittany said.

He felt Puck's hands on his waist, guiding him to shift his position.

"Me gusta," Santana breathed. Someone (three guesses who) cleared their throat loudly.

Kurt grabbed a fistful of the front of Puck's shirt and felt the other man grin into the kiss.

"Um...dude?" Finn muttered sheepishly. Kurt almost didn't want to remove his lips from Puck's but felt that his mission was done. He lifted his head with an elegant flourish and noticed that in the minutes they had been making out, he had somehow found himself straddling Puck's lap, who had a rather goofy grin on this face as he said loudly,

"That's what I'm talking about!"

Blaine looked mutinous. Kurt inclined his head casually towards him,

"I don't see what you're so upset about," he said, allowing himself a smirk, "You said it yourself, it's just a game."

He wished he had a camera. He stood up, grateful for the knee-length sweater he was wearing what would have otherwise been a very clear problem in his skinny jeans.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get myself another drink."

* * *

><p>To say the ride home later that night was tense would perhaps be the understatement of the century.<p>

It was about an hour after the kiss, when a drunken Rachel had kicked them all out her house because she was tired. Kurt and Blaine sat in the back seat of Finn's car, the space between them managing to seem so much bigger than it actually was. Kurt was staring at the roof of the car, ignoring the anger that was practically radiating off Blaine as the other boy kept his gaze firmly out of the window. Even Finn, once more the designated driver, noticed enough not to make petty small talk.

Kurt was starting to regret his actions. Not so much kissing Puck, no, he still didn't think he was in the wrong. No, he had failed to anticipate that Blaine – living in Westerville and all – would have to come back and stay at his house. Burt and Carole had taken a short break for the weekend and though there had been brief mentions of a party in the Hummel household, all the members of New Directions agreed that they wouldn't dare run the risk of being caught by Burt.

They said their good nights to Finn in the front landing of the house, his room being down in the basement and Kurt's being on the first floor. Kurt could see that Finn was grateful for this fact. It would mean there was less chance of him hearing the inevitable yelling match that was going to take place. Kurt didn't care. Blaine had deserved a taste of his own medicine.

The brunette stormed up the stairs. Once or twice he thought he might have still heard Blaine stumble on one of the steps but he didn't bother to look back to see if he was okay.

For the first time in months, Kurt got ready for bed in the bathroom. Yes, he was ready for an argument but he was intentionally taking twice as long on his nightly routine to try and press Blaine's patience further. Kurt took his sweet time to undress, changing into a pair of silk pyjama bottoms and a Rent t-shirt. He procrastinated before brushing his teeth by rearranging the different moisturisers and lotions on the window sill, then went through his nightly skincare routine.

Eventually he reasoned that it was stupid to avoid the inevitable much longer. He left his clothes in an untidy pile on the floor and wandered back into the room as casually as he could, like it always took him nearly forty-five minutes to get ready for bed.

Kurt exited the bathroom and only just managed to stop himself from recoiling as he found himself practically face to face with the junior, who looked angrier than Kurt had ever seen him. How anyone could look so intimidating while wearing a t-shirt bearing the Hogwarts crest, he would never know. Maybe avoiding the argument hadn't been as smart an idea as it originally seemed.

"What the fuck was that, Kurt?" he hissed in a low voice.

Kurt kept his face as straight as he could.

"I don't know what you mean," he said simply.

"You don't know what I mean?" Blaine replied. He laughed darkly, "Noah Puckerman had his tongue down your throat and you don't know what I mean. You're a lot of things Kurt, but I never took you for stupid."

Heat rushed into Kurt's face, "I'm not stupid."

"Oh, so it's immature then, is it? If this is about Rachel-"

Now it was Kurt's turn to let out an unamused bark of a laugh (only Kurt's was slightly more yappy than Blaine's had been, the curse of the counter-tenor), "Of _course _this is about Rachel," he threw up his hands, "I am so sick and tired of watching you kiss her every single time you have more than three drinks. I've tried to tell you how I feel on the matter but you're all "it's just a game" and that's the end of that. As if I don't know you enjoy it."

"You're overreacting-"

"Oh really?" as soon as he had started yelling, every little thought in his head came spilling out like word vomit, "-you're supposed to be my boyfriend yet if people didn't know better they would swear you and Rachel were a couple the way you act around each other when you're both drunk. And if we're talking immature don't act like the way you kissed her earlier wasn't intended to piss me off. Yes. I kissed Puck to get back at you. Yes, it was immature. But I have three words for you Blaine Anderson," he counted off the words (making sure to put up his middle and index finger first and second), "Deal. With. It."

Blaine growled – no, like a real, animalistic growl – and started forward. Kurt flinched, suddenly terrified that he had crossed the line and that Blaine, usually so good-natured, was going to hit him. What Kurt hadn't expected was to find himself pressed against the bedroom wall, the hand he had been counting with was pinned above his head, and the other was resting on Blaine's ass as they made out with an angry ferocity. Their tongues wrestled for dominance, a fight neither of them were willing to lose. Blaine bit down hard on his lip, choosing that exact moment to push their crotches together. Kurt yelped in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"You're impossible sometimes," Blaine mumbled into his mouth.

"Me? I only did this because of the way you acted," he jerked his hips forward, grinding them against his boyfriend, "If you didn't start it by always dry-humping Rachel..." his words trailed off as Blaine nipped along his jawbone – no kisses, just scraping his teeth against the suddenly hyper-sensitive skin.

"I've told you before, I'm affectionate-"

"There's a difference between affectionate and what you were doing and talking to you wasn't helping."

"So you thought you'd show me how it felt. Well, message received."

"Good, maybe now you'll stop acting like such a jerk."

Blaine released his arm and they stumbled clumsily towards Kurt's bed, clothes being discarded along the way. Once, Kurt nearly tripped up over the bottom of his pyjama bottoms in his haste to get out of them but there was no real injury. He let Blaine push him onto the bed, a bit more roughly than he would have done if they weren't still angry with each other, the younger man climbing over him and resuming his earlier task of biting Kurt's neck. There was nothing sweet about the way Kurt's hands were tangled roughly in Blaine's hair, tugging in a way that must have hurt. Blaine had found a spot on his collarbone to suck and bite on, and he could already feel it start to bruise.

It was painful but it seemed he was a bit of a masochist. The pain of Blaine's teeth mixed with the feeling of their hips grinding was unreal. He had to bite on his already swollen lip to muffle groans.

"There," Blaine's tone was smug as he raised his lips. There was a large purple bruise on Kurt's collarbone, a stark contrast to the alabaster colour of his skin, "This means you're mine."

Kurt didn't think he would ever find this possessive, angry side of his boyfriend hot but...damn, it was hot.

"Are you going to take me properly or just talk?" he gasped out. He couldn't believe how painfully hard he was, and though the friction between their cocks felt _amazing _it wasn't nearly enough. He wanted – he couldn't believe he was actually thinking this – to be fucked. Hard and rough.

Blaine licked his lips, his usually honey-coloured eyes almost black with angry lust.

"Lube?" he said.

Kurt couldn't stop himself from being snarky, "How many times have you been in this bed, Blaine, yet you're still asking me that?"

"Go fuck yourself, Hummel," Blaine growled in response but – without lifting his hips off Kurt's – he leaned over to the top drawer of the bedside cabinet where the other boy kept lube and condoms, "Unless you rather Puck would," he added in a bitter afterthought. Kurt rolled his eyes and grabbed a firm hold of Blaine's cock, causing the other man to swear and squirt nearly the whole tube of lube over his hands.

"I'd rather you shut the hell up and fuck me," he jerked his hand up and down, smirking as Blaine's hips stuttered into his touch.

He let himself be flipped over so that his face was pressed against his silk pillows. Blaine's trailed his fingers down Kurt's back, leaving a snail's trail of lube. When he reached the curve of his spine, he traced a repeated figure of eight pattern but didn't move his hands any lower. Kurt could practically the smug kind of smile that was present on Blaine's face, even if he couldn't see it. His voice was needier than he had intended when he gasped out,

"Stop teasing."

"Like you were doing?"

"You deserved it-_ow!" _Blaine smacked his ass, "Fuck. You."

"I would rather fuck you, thanks," there was a pause, "You don't need prepped, do you?"

"No. Just do _something_..."

It seemed to take forever for Blaine to lube up (was he doing this deliberately?) but finally, _finally_ (after what was actually only about twenty seconds) he positioned himself against Kurt's ass - gripping painfully on his already bruised hip- and pushed past the ring of muscles. Kurt grimaced. Even after all this alcohol he still wasn't impervious to the stretch. Blaine stopped when he had pushed in to the hilt, he was biting down on Kurt's shoulder in a way that going to leave a lasting mark but neither of them were really caring. It felt like they hadn't done this in a _long _time. That wasn't the case, of course, they had had done it that morning. Damn (or was it "bless"?) the combination of teenage hormones, lust and alcohol. Kurt relaxed as much as he could, letting his body grow accustomed to Blaine's presence. Judging by the shakiness of his boyfriend's breath, it was taking all his willpower not to just go at it with reckless abandon.

"Move," Kurt eventually instructed. He reached back and grabbed Blaine's sweat-slicked thigh, just for something to hold on to. He thrust hard and fast. Kurt could see stars with every stroke. His nerves were on fire and he wasn't sure the last time he had felt so _filled_. It seemed that Blaine was going out of his way to make sure that Kurt forgot that there was other boys in the world. This jealous side definitely had its advantages.

"It drove me crazy to see you kiss someone else like that," Blaine's voice was husky, more of a low growl, and holy hell...if that wasn't enough to get Kurt off for the rest of the year, he didn't know what would. He was actually rather surprised when he was able to form a coherent enough response,

"I told you why I did."

"You're beautiful. Why would I risk losing that?"

This time the response _was _lost in a whine. He could feel Blaine pushing against his prostate, but not close enough...

"Faster," he managed to force out.

"Why would I choose Rachel over seeing you lose control like this-" Blaine reached around and curled his fingers around Kurt's cock, whose hips were twitching in a frantic kind of way as he simultaneously tried to push them back against Blaine, and thrust them forward against his hand, "-so fucking hot."

He could feel the tension spread through his muscles, a desperation for more...more skin on skin, more of the sound of his boyfriend gasping and moaning into his ear, more _Blaine_...but it still wasn't enough.

"Stop," he groaned. _Stop? _His libido reprimanded.

"Stop?" Blaine repeated, managing to sound affronted even through heavy lust.

In an impressive move that Kurt would never be able to explain how he did it, he manage to flip them over so that Blaine was flat on his back with Kurt straddling his hips. He could see the other boy physically gulp at this. He took in a moment to survey the view, the flat panes of Blaine's chest, his surprisingly muscular arms, the smattering of coarse, dark hair on his chest and stomach, and kiss swollen lips. All his.

"Much better," he smirked. He sank back onto Blaine's cock, rocking forward experimentally to see how it felt. Blaine's mouth feel open in a perfect "O" shape. Kurt had to admit, he rather enjoyed this feeling of being in control. He guided Blaine's hands to rest on his thighs as he started to move up and down. Yes. This angle was definitely_ much _better. Kurt's head fell back in pleasure. Good thing he had a _lot _of practise with gyrating his hips when he danced to _Single Ladies. _He leaned forward just a little to change the angle, resting a hand on Blaine's shoulder and-

Kurt keened. There. Right _there_. He would have said it, but he didn't trust his ability to form words.

From then on, just the sound of their loud, shallow breaths and the sound of the headboard hitting off the wall as the bed rocked obscenely below them. With every thrust, Kurt could feel his orgasm building, coiling in his stomach, the heat building rapidly.

Blaine came before him, groaning as he did. The rugged, _fucked _quality of Blaine's voice was all it took.

The world gave out from around Kurt as he finally climaxed, feeling like he was literally about to pass out from the feeling. It took him nearly a full five minutes to remember how to breathe. He hadn't even needed to touch himself. _Fuck_.

Eventually he slumped down onto the bed, feeling tired and rather over sensitive after such a (literal) explosion. His muscles felt physically drained. He let out a small hiss of pain as he pulled himself away from Blaine and rolled off him to lie on the bed. He was definitely going to feel that in the morning but for now, after exerting so much energy, he was ready to sleep for days. Without so much as speaking, Kurt shifted so that he was half-draped across Blaine's surprisingly well-formed chest, who smiled sleepily and wrapped his own arms around Kurt's thin frame. The tension between them had dissipated. Now all that was left was the smell of sex, sweat and booze that hung in the air as they both drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Kurt was awoken to the sound of his cellphone going off. He groaned, feeling the beginnings of a hangover throb ominously beneath his temple and had to psych himself up to open his eyes. He made the internal promise he made after every drunken escapade that he would never drink again. This time the hangover was accompanied by the entire lower half of his body aching (okay, the sex the night before had been worth it). He was still in the same position as he was when he fell asleep; cuddled up to Blaine although now a thin layer of sweat had stuck them together (he tried not to think about that). The other boy grunted,<p>

"Who's calling at this hour?"

Kurt opened his eyes slightly to find that Blaine's eyes were half-opened in a way that suggested they begrudged being open at all. He rolled over (Blaine swore – the abrupt un-sticking of their bodies didn't feel entirely dissimilar to a plaster being ripped off), grabbed his phone from the beside table (noting that it was three o'clock in the afternoon) and frowned in confusion at the name on the display.

"Puck."

The response was an annoyed noise at the back of Blaine's throat. Kurt answered, "Hello?"

"You're welcome," Puck said, instantly. He sounded way too happy for someone who had drank so much. Kurt resented him for it. He scowled,

"Excuse me?"

"I said, you're welcome. You know, for helping you out with your boyfriend troubles. Everything's fine now, right?"

"Yes, but-" he paused. He and Blaine were still angry at each other when they left the party. They were even still angry when they said goodnight to Finn. How could Puck know that everything was okay between them? As if Puck could tell what Kurt was going to say, he let out a very hearty laugh,

"Finn told me, bro. Impressive that you sleep upstairs and he sleeps in the basement yet he still heard-"

Kurt's face turned instantly scarlet and he let out a squeal of embarrassment that made Blaine start, "Oh god, please don't finish that sentence."

Blaine gave him a blank look, "What?"

Puck was still chuckling, "Anyway. I'm glad I could help out. You're not a bad kisser. You know...for a queer."

"Um...thanks. I think." His head hurt too much to think of some quick-witted response. He hung up the phone, feeling just about ready to die from either the hangover, or embarrassment. Possibly both. Finn had _heard _them. He knew that they hadn't been quiet but...

"Oh my god," he groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"Are you okay?" Blaine said, nervously. Kurt parted his fingers only enough that he could see his boyfriend's concerned face looking at him through the gaps in his fingers.

"Finn heard."

"Heard...?" There was a brief moment of confusion before Blaine's honey-coloured eyes widened in realisation, "You're kidding."

"I'm not leaving this room. Ever." he curled up into a mortified ball at Blaine's side, "And neither are you. We're staying here so I won't have to face Finn ever again."

"We're going to have to face everyone at some point."

"No, we don't. We can stay here. I can have you all to myself."

Blaine smiled, "I can't argue with you having me all to yourself but it's not a very practical plan. Besides-" he paused, as if trying to find an upside to being heard, "-at least everyone knows we're not angry at each other any more."

Kurt managed an exasperated but fond smile, "Always trying to look on the bright side."

A silence followed.

"Becoming hermits and joking aside, I didn't know you felt that way about Rachel and I," Blaine said, "I'm sorry. Especially for...you know-" he sounded sheepish, "Deliberately trying to annoy you."

"That's okay," Kurt raised his head slightly so that his blue eyes met with Blaine's hazel, "I'm sorry too. I should have tried to talk to you. You're right, it _was _immature to kiss Puck. Rest assured, I would rather have these lips-" he lightly tapped Blaine's lips, who kissed the tip of his finger, "-Any day."

"Well I'm glad," Blaine replied, smiling, "And I promise from now on I'll stop acting inappropriately around Rachel when I'm drunk. On just one condition."

"And what is that?"

"No more making out with Puck-" he grinned and wriggled his eyebrows, "Not unless I'm invited to join in as well."

"_Blaine!_"

"Sorry."

Kurt shook his head good-naturedly before smiling, "Okay. No more making out with Puck."

Blaine kissed him, long and lazily, "I love you."

"I love you too."

**The End**


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